Truth Telling
TRUTH TELLING
Jack and Daniel stuck off-world-S5 post Reese and some other bad stuff.
Lot of talking; some swearing
"I'll give you this much, Daniel. At least this one wasn't your fault."
"Excuse me?"
Jack turned his head, into more blackness and spots of color that kept dancing in his retina, put there by his brain as something to see. They were trying to save the batteries in the one flashlight that had survived. But Jack could picture Daniel's expression. Mouth open, like more words had been started, then left hanging. Mobile eyebrows flying high and just as startled. Eyes wide, pupils blown behind the glasses, although right now the glasses were gone, lost under a few pounds of rock. Jack liked shocking Daniel just because he always got this same reaction; predictability was a nice thing to have in this world.
"You heard me," Jack said. He eased a bruised shoulder from the wall and wished tac vests had more padding.
"I did, but I'm still hearing that low ringing in my ears, too. Why is this not my fault? I was the one who wanted to come inside."
"Yeah, but I think the floor would have held if it'd just been you."
"So-what? It's both our faults since we stepped in together?"
"No, Daniel. Collapsing floors fit under the Act of God category. Ask any insurance company. Though, next ruin, you're on your own."
"I'm going to remember that next time you decide I need someone looking over my shoulder on a world that doesn't have anyone else within ten miles of the Stargate."
Jack nodded, shut his eyes, kept seeing the dancing spots. They'd woken in darkness-meaning it had to be night on this world. So, couple hours out cold. This place was supposed to have short days. Short nights, too.
He couldn't raise Carter or Teal'c by radio, which meant either the radios weren't working or the others had gone back through the Stargate for help and maybe S&R teams. That's what he was hoping for. Now he was wishing he'd said something more about where they were headed than that crack about helping Daniel find a new apartment in these stone cliffs. Six miles of ruins-way too much canyon for two people to search.
"You know, Sam and Teal'c might be dead," Daniel said, picking up on Jack's thoughts with spooky accuracy.
"Daniel..." Jack put a low warning in there. He didn't see the need to add more.
"Or they might be trapped in another building like we are."
"Daniel, why do you always come up with the worst scenarios? And I do mean absolute worst."
He heard a shift of dirt and fabric and a soft grunt. They were both banged up and bruised. Nothing broken, but some of the stone that had come down with them had come down on Daniel's head. The man had a ragged gash on his temple. It'd been a bitch to stop the bleeding, and it'd bled enough before they'd woken so Daniel had plenty of it on his uniform and dried and flaking off the side of his face. They were as comfortable as they could be now, sitting with their backs pressed to one of the walls. Daniel had his pack off. Jack had it next to him. And it really would have been better if Daniel hadn't had a few books packed in there to also land on him.
Bumping his shoulder against Daniel's, Jack tried to keep from sliding down the curved walls to the bottom of the curved floor as Daniel started talking. "Worst? No, the worst is that Sam and Teal'c are secretly relieved to get rid of us and gated back to tell everyone we're dead. And they'll have a nice memorial while we die of..."
"Daniel!"
"What? You asked. Or Jaffa arrived after we did and Sam and Teal'c got..."
"Daniel, if you don't put a sock in it, that head bandage is moving a lot lower."
"I was just pointing out...besides, if we think about how bad it could be, then if it turns out it's not such a disaster, it'll be a nice surprise."
"I hate surprises."
"No, you hate being surprised. You love it when someone else gets blindsided."
That was true, so Jack had to give Daniel that one. And he wondered if they weren't both a little punchy. He couldn't remember the last time he spent this much time talking to anyone, particularly Daniel. Still, what else was there to do besides wait for...well, something.
He shifted and eased his butt on the curving stone, which made the place feel like the bottom of a dry swimming pool. Or an empty fish bowl. And he was not about to follow Daniel down into his dark place of bad things. He did not believe in bracing himself so that anything else seemed better, but it struck him that this was an old habit of Daniel's.
"This what you learned from your parents dying?" Jack heard the words come out of his mouth and then he sat there braced against curved stone, his mouth hanging. Where the hell had that come from? Sure, he'd been thinking it, but to have it pop out like that? He couldn't see Daniel's expression, couldn't judge the reaction.
But when Daniel spoke, he only sounded tired. "Actually, I think I learned it before then. I mean, don't get me wrong, my parents they-well, it's just...I'm pretty sure they didn't plan on having a child. Or didn't expect it after so...well, from what I remember, they loved having me, but they really were better equipped to deal with a miniature adult than a child. You might say I grew up fast."
Jack nodded-nothing new in this to him. "Single kid, he's either the center of the universe or he learns to fit into an established relationship and careers." Or a little of both, depending on the parents, and Jack knew Daniel's parents had to have been obsessive about what they did. You didn't die for something unless it was all-consuming. "So you came in second?"
"You an only child, too?" Daniel asked.
"No. Charlie. Air Force." The words came out on their own again, and Jack wanted to bite off his tongue. You didn't speak of the dead. You buried them and left them in peace and hoped, at some point, you might find some.
Daniel just let out a long breath and Jack couldn't read what more lay under that. Then Daniel said, his voice toneless, "I see."
Jack stiffened. "See what? What?"
"Well, why you look at me-at my background-and draw similarities as to how Charlie might have turned out."
"Oh, so you're Charlie to me?"
"Not quite. I'm a different personality, obviously. But I'd have a few things in common-single child and all. You grow up independent, self-contained. My parents didn't keep guns around, which was a good thing considering I also got into everything. I was stubborn and determined I could look after myself."
"Was?" Jack asked, the word coming out with a snort that was almost a laugh. "Not seeing a past tense in there."
Daniel went right on as if Jack hadn't said anything. "That's why you're here now, even. You worry about me getting into stuff where I might get myself...well, uhm, actually, I've already done that, haven't I?"
A long silence filled the blackness.
They'd fallen into something Daniel had decided was a cistern-basically, the local underground water supply. It had looked dry and empty when they'd come to and Jack had darted his flashlight around. Overhead, the hole they'd fallen through let in faint light. Had to be only about six meters up, maybe seven, and if Daniel could stand on his shoulders, or he could stand on Daniel's, one of them might be able to get out. But Jack had fallen feet first before the rest of the floor and Daniel landed on him, and his left ankle wasn't holding his weight.
He didn't think he'd fractured anything, but he sure as hell had blown something. Without a ladder or ropes, they weren't going anywhere. They couldn't even climb the smooth sided walls and floor, carved out of the rock of the mountain and into a stone temple. Jack had already broken the tip of his knife trying to claw out a handhold.
Kicking a rock away with good foot, Jack pushed out a long, ragged breath.
The debris from the broken floor scrabbled under Daniel, echoed weirdly as Daniel moved again. And Daniel asked, voice low and tight, "Why did I just say all of that?"
"Got me. I don't know why you say most of the stuff you say. How's your head?"
"Aching."
Worry flaring, Jack flicked on the flashlight. He had it pointed away from Daniel, but Daniel still squinted and threw up a hand. The guy looked pale under the dried blood that Jack had smeared more than wiped away. But the pallor could be due to the too-bright glare.
"Jesus, Jack-the least you could do is warn me before you blind me."
"You said your head's aching."
"Yeah-it is. So is most of the rest of me."
"Daniel, you never say if you're aching."
"I do-when it's true. Just because I don't complain as much as you do, doesn't mean-"
"Yeah, sure. Save it, Daniel, for someone who hasn't seen you looking like cat spit and not saying word one about it."
"Cat spit?" Daniel asked.
With a shake of his head, Jack pulled Daniel's pack open and dug into it for the med kit.
Couple of years ago, Daniel had started packing an extra. Not long, in fact, after Sha-well, easy enough to see why Daniel might be closing a few barn doors there. Now the extra always came with. Carter had one, too, but as much action as they saw, a spare wasn't any kind of overkill.
He'd had the kit out to get Daniel's head wrapped, but he'd left the pain meds. At the time, Daniel had insisted he didn't need them, and Jack had hope of rescue soon. With head injuries, he'd rather have both of them alert until he was certain neither of them had serious damage. He was pretty certain of that now, except for the too much talking.
"Take these." He pushed a packet of Vicodin at Daniel. It'd make Daniel loopy as hell, but better that than a long night of hurting.
The packet flew back, smacked his cheek.
"You take 'em. They make me loopy as hell and I already feel drunk."
Frowning, Jack pocketed the pills and thought about it. And, yeah, he had the same back of the skull throb as the morning after one too many beers. 'Course that could be from slamming against one too many stones.
Picking up the flashlight, he swung it around the room again. Nothing but dust floated past the narrow beam. Still, he had to wonder. "Daniel, think there's something? Some kind of-I dunno-stuff in the air?"
"Beats me. That'd be Sam's area. There isn't exactly a sign with the words 'gas main' in any language, now is there?"
With a sniff and then a shrug, Daniel settled himself and slide a few inches downwards. He was sitting cross-legged with his back to the wall, and Jack didn't know how that could be comfortable. The bandage around Daniel's temple was crooked and didn't cover the deep purple bruising along the left side of his face. He looked like he'd been smacked with a floor, which was pretty much what had happened. Jack knew his own face looked better, because the aches and swelling centered on his left ankle and spread up from there to his hip and lower back and shoulders. He was just glad for no broken necks.
He stared at Daniel a minute longer, then flicked off the light. More colors danced in the darkness. Daniel shifted again; he was close enough that the warmth of him settled on Jack's left side.
"I don't smell anything. Of course, my sinuses aren't exactly reliable. But it doesn't matter if there is. Not like we can stop breathing."
"You've got a mask in your pack and we could-"
"The way my head's feeling, I'm not putting on one of those hoods. And so what if-well, we're...you know, doctors aren't allowed to repeat anything a patient says while under anesthesia. Whatever confessions come out are drug affected."
"So what-we ignore what we're saying?"
"What we're saying may be true, but it also might be twisted. Maybe we're rambling. I often do."
Closing his eyes and resting his head against the stone, Jack thought about that. At least the temperature was steady. Cool. No dampness, no chill. Not yet. Might get worse as the night went on. They hadn't fallen into a full cistern and drowned. On the other hand, there were worse things than being dead.
"What if it is true?" he asked, opening his eyes to stare at shadows. "And why do I expect you to always know these things?"
"Because I know a lot? Actually, it's probably because I'm good at crafting plausible explanations. Sam's good at that, too."
"Theories, Daniel. You always have theories. I've noticed."
"It's a habit. And it's comforting. As a kid I used to make up all the reasons for everything. I got tired of asking my parents why and having them ask me, 'well, what do you think?' That's the trouble with smart parents-they catch on to you and figure out how to make you do all the work instead."
Jack struggled with keeping the question back, but it was like trying not to hiccup. As soon as his lips parted, the sounds formed. "Did you make up a reason for why your parents had you?"
"No. I just made sure I was useful. Not that I needed to, but, well, it turned out I had an ear for language, and by seven I was about the most qualified interpreter for any of the digs because I could speak Arabic, Greek, some French, a little German, and Berber made it in there, too. Oh, and English. I was slow to pick up any writing that wasn't hieroglyphs, but I could talk to almost anyone, and I would. I was a brutal mimic. There was a smattering of Dutch in there. We didn't use it at any of the sites, but Nick visited a couple of times and was horrified my mother hadn't taught me what he said was her native tongue. Never mind she'd been born in Oregon."
"Okay, this is now weird. Daniel, you never talk about yourself."
"I know. Maybe...head injury?"
It was sure something. Daniel sounded both hopeful and resigned, like he'd been through this before. Considering how often he ended up on pain meds, he probably had. It was one reason Jack tended to low dose on anything being handed out himself. And this sure as hell wasn't a nice, safe infirmary.
Groping with one hand, Jack found Daniel's shoulder, then his neck. He pressed scraped fingertips over the carotid artery, felt the steady beat of Daniel's pulse. Skin dry and warm, but not hot. Daniel didn't bat his hand away, so he left it on Daniel's shoulder. For some reason, Jack needed the connection, and then he knew it was because they were getting into damn scary territory.
"We're going to regret this."
Daniel shifted, went from cross-legged to one knee up. Jack felt the brush of movement and knew without seeing just what was going on. And Daniel didn't move away from Jack's hand, but seemed to settle under it a little. He also didn't try to pretend he didn't know exactly what Jack was taking about.
"Will we? Maybe we can say things here in the darkness of a different world because...well, this is a temple-a holy place."
"Confession time? You might live like a priest-"
"Not voluntarily."
"-but I'm not asking you how many 'Hail Marys' I need."
"Absolutions?" Daniel said, voice slipping to light and quick and amused. "You know, the Church used to sell them. If you were thinking about committing a sin, you could buy forgiveness in advance. I wonder if it ever helped? It's too bad they don't still do that, I could use some, but then I'd have to believe and I'm not sure I'm up to that anymore."
"Daniel, following your thoughts is like watching a cat take a ball of yarn and try to knit a sweater."
"Really? Is that good? I've always thought of cats as entertaining. They're clever. There's a lot of cats in Egypt. They look as if they'd stepped from a three-thousand-year-old wall painting. I tried to tame one once. My parents had a fit over it, gave me a long lecture about rabies, but I had a habit of not listening, so I don't remember much of it other than it was hot and I was bored. I suspect I was a very annoying child."
"A trait oddly not outgrown."
"That's somewhat intentional. I wish I'd been annoying enough."
"Enough? For what?"
"The coverstone that fell-I was being annoying at the time, trying to get their attention. New York was...unsettling. And they were considering formal schooling for me, which would have meant leaving me behind next dig season, and I'd gotten to that age where I wasn't content with being in the background. So, well, I was acting out. And if I'd been better at...”
Daniel broke off, shifted again, and Jack shook his head. "Oh, crap. You and Charlie."
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure he was out to annoy you, Jack. My bet is he had your gun out before that. It's the kind of thing I'd have done. Pushed a little too far."
"Daniel, I will say this once more-we're not in was or would-have land. It's what you still do. It's why I get so damn mad at you. And it's not because of similarities to Charlie. It's because you don't recognize limits. That's not good for anyone."
Jack broke off, thought of the last set of limits Daniel had been pushing-the certainty Daniel'd had that he could get through to a hunk of metal and deadly twisted wires. Pressing his lips tighter, Jack fought the words back. They hadn't talked about it since what they'd said in the gate room and Jack wanted it left there.
Thank god, Daniel wasn't picking up on that, but he sounded ticked anyway. "Oh, come on. You've benefited from that. And it's boundaries. And I do recognize them. But limitations are artificial constructions we set around ourselves in order to create a comfort zone in which we feel safe and can operate from habit instead of conscious choice. We want assumptions to become patterns that confirm our beliefs. That's why we build temples-to turn beliefs into codified realities we can give the next generation so they don't have to think, either. All of that helps us feel better about holding onto our buffers against the world."
"So, what-faith is a set of habits?"
"Uh, yeah, pretty much. Not personal faith, but to organize anything you have to lay down rules. That means a flawed structure, given that we're only human. And it's worse when it comes from a Goa'uld."
"Daniel, do you ever listen to yourself?"
"Uh-yes. Usually. Why?"
"This..." Jack broke off, waved the hand that wasn't resting on Daniel, "...constructs thing-hell, no wonder the other book-heads booted you. These kind of ideas-and now you're just justifying why you can do whatever the hell you want with this. You do that with morality, too."
"I do not!"
Jack felt Daniel stiffen, but he kept his hand where it was. "Y'know, I'd give a lot for a pillow right about now. Or a couch."
The shoulder under his hand relaxed again. "Maybe we should start bringing something inflatable in our packs, or is that out of line with tough military standards? And are you implying that I align my interests with...what's ethically right for...well, for selfish reasons?"
Daniel sounded unsettled and his voice had gone tight and high, so Jack knew he'd hit a sore spot. He should just shut up. He'd only make it worse. He always did. But the words kept pouring, even though he didn't want to say anything. "No. You align what's right with your interests so you can end up doing what you think should be done. You make a call. And you always have good reasons. Truth is, you want us all operating in your world, Daniel. Typical only child self-centeredness-they're start off pros at that and never really learn better. You know what's right, and that's that. And, before you ask, yes, Charlie used to do that, too."
"Really?"
"Yeah. But with a lot fewer long words."
A small huff of laughter echoed in the room. "God, I think I'd have liked Charlie."
"Or you'd have hated each other. If you haven't noticed, only kids do not generally grow up great at sharing. Anything. You may share the stuff you don't care about, but god help anyone who touches the stuff you've put a claim on. We had to work with Charlie on that one, too. Of course, no chance you'd have met."
"We did. Briefly. In a way. I've always wondered, though, if that was-an idealized Charlie."
"Who? What?"
"The blue-crystal entity? You remember."
Jack did and didn't want to admit it, and did anyway. "Yeah, that was Charlie. Part of him. The best of him. The part I carry with me."
"You miss him."
The words came out soft and not a question, but Jack couldn't keep from responding. He was starting to hate that. "Hell, yeah. But you get busy. This is a job that keeps you busy. Time helps. You know all that."
"Oh, sure. Until you end up lying in a cistern for a few hours with maybe something turning every thought into words. I think this phenomena could be why there's a temple here."
"Temple of Blab? New theory?"
"Uh, yeah. But it's good one, don't you think?"
"They're all good. A few even grow up to be right."
"Right isn't everything."
Jack frowned, then squinted into the darkness. "What? Aren't you always fighting for what's right?"
"Well, sometimes. But if you'd listen to me, you'd know I'm usually just trying to get people to ask a few questions instead of reacting without checking for mistaken assumptions. Or jumping because of orders. And if you want to talk self-serving, I think we have to start there."
Jack mulled that over, then shook his head. "No, Daniel. You want to lead us all down the garden path. You want us thinking, but you want us thinking the way you do. You're a pied piper. And what the hell is a pied anyway?"
"It means patched or spotty. Either that or it's the past tense of pi-three point..."
"Thank you, Daniel. We can skip the full dictionary entry part of the evening."
"You do know that, in that fairy tale, he led a bunch of rats, and then stole children? Not a nice person. It's a metaphor for-"
"And you are?"
"What-nice? I like to think I can be. I try to be."
"Actually, you try to be polite. Hell, you can be so polite you take someone's skin off with it. Me-I don't want to be nice. Not to anyone. Nice gets you a dead kid."
"Oh, right. And your marriage? You think being nice ended that?"
"Okay-your point on that one."
"Point? This is a game now? What's with this sports mentality within the military anyway? Life as one big war game? And I'm not sure you are telling the truth. You sound more like you're telling a skewed personal version."
"Sure, Daniel. Keep talking. That non-sports geek thing-you are so busted on that one. You're as competitive as Carter, and you're only a klutz when you're totally not paying attention. I've seen you in action. And I've seen how you watch hockey."
"Well-"
Jack waited. Something in here was doing this to them. He was ready to make book on that. So Daniel wouldn't be able to clam up. Sure enough, Daniel shifted, but couldn't hold back an answer. "It took me a few years to get into glasses. Which meant my hand-eye coordination was...well, poor depth perception leaves out most sports. By then, I'd pretty much decided that wasn't an area where I excelled anyway, but I'd also had early years playing with third-world kids. Survival for them is a matter of competing-they don't exactly take it easy on you. And, well, after I adjusted to my foster home, I found I liked track. Physical exhaustion can be a great place sometimes."
"How'd you do at meets?"
"Terrible. If we had to travel too far, my allergies killed me. Then they bumped me in grades and that killed competing in anything. Except for chess club."
"Debate team?"
"Good at arguments, not so good at the whole team thing."
"Let me guess-you were annoying."
"Making up for what I hadn't been able to do earlier. So, yes, very annoying. Tact is not a natural gift-as you know."
Jack ignored the barb, let it bounce off his skin, and asked, since he couldn't not, "Drove your foster parents nuts?"
"Not really. They were European, an older couple with beautiful manners. I picked up more languages from them. And they had this quiet way of looking at me like they knew I couldn't help it when I stepped out of line and that made me feel horrible-god, they'd lost relatives to Auschwitz. So how was I...mostly it was with teachers, anyway, and the occasional case worker or psychologist that...well, like I said, first couple of years were an adjustment. This whole country was. So was the idea of rules. I'd never had so much as a bedtime."
"What?"
"Well, what sense would it make? My parents had things to occupy them, and they figured I was smart enough to sleep when I was tired, eat when hungry. And I was. Still am. Speaking of that, do we have any food?"
Since Daniel didn't seem with it enough to dig into his own pack, Jack pulled it open again and found an MRE. He ripped into it, pulled out one of the smaller packets and squished it. "Mac and cheese, I think?"
"Useful as a substitute for a plaster casting but nothing I'd want."
"Fine. Eat the cookies." He found the cookie packet by touch, pushed it into Daniel's hands, heard the package crackle as Daniel struggled to open it. "Do you think the Jaffa have a better form of portable meals? I know there's freeze-dried camping food that's better."
"Be grateful. Millions were spent to develop this. Besides, if Teal'c had something better, don't you think he'd share?"
"No. Teal'c likes to impress us with the whole stoic thing. He wants us thinking Jaffa can live on scavenged pine needles and dirt. He also likes to make us ask him about stuff-all this time and you haven't noticed that? And aren't you glad you aren't here with him, listening to stories of life with Apophis?"
Part 2
Jack and Daniel stuck off-world-S5 post Reese and some other bad stuff.
Lot of talking; some swearing
"I'll give you this much, Daniel. At least this one wasn't your fault."
"Excuse me?"
Jack turned his head, into more blackness and spots of color that kept dancing in his retina, put there by his brain as something to see. They were trying to save the batteries in the one flashlight that had survived. But Jack could picture Daniel's expression. Mouth open, like more words had been started, then left hanging. Mobile eyebrows flying high and just as startled. Eyes wide, pupils blown behind the glasses, although right now the glasses were gone, lost under a few pounds of rock. Jack liked shocking Daniel just because he always got this same reaction; predictability was a nice thing to have in this world.
"You heard me," Jack said. He eased a bruised shoulder from the wall and wished tac vests had more padding.
"I did, but I'm still hearing that low ringing in my ears, too. Why is this not my fault? I was the one who wanted to come inside."
"Yeah, but I think the floor would have held if it'd just been you."
"So-what? It's both our faults since we stepped in together?"
"No, Daniel. Collapsing floors fit under the Act of God category. Ask any insurance company. Though, next ruin, you're on your own."
"I'm going to remember that next time you decide I need someone looking over my shoulder on a world that doesn't have anyone else within ten miles of the Stargate."
Jack nodded, shut his eyes, kept seeing the dancing spots. They'd woken in darkness-meaning it had to be night on this world. So, couple hours out cold. This place was supposed to have short days. Short nights, too.
He couldn't raise Carter or Teal'c by radio, which meant either the radios weren't working or the others had gone back through the Stargate for help and maybe S&R teams. That's what he was hoping for. Now he was wishing he'd said something more about where they were headed than that crack about helping Daniel find a new apartment in these stone cliffs. Six miles of ruins-way too much canyon for two people to search.
"You know, Sam and Teal'c might be dead," Daniel said, picking up on Jack's thoughts with spooky accuracy.
"Daniel..." Jack put a low warning in there. He didn't see the need to add more.
"Or they might be trapped in another building like we are."
"Daniel, why do you always come up with the worst scenarios? And I do mean absolute worst."
He heard a shift of dirt and fabric and a soft grunt. They were both banged up and bruised. Nothing broken, but some of the stone that had come down with them had come down on Daniel's head. The man had a ragged gash on his temple. It'd been a bitch to stop the bleeding, and it'd bled enough before they'd woken so Daniel had plenty of it on his uniform and dried and flaking off the side of his face. They were as comfortable as they could be now, sitting with their backs pressed to one of the walls. Daniel had his pack off. Jack had it next to him. And it really would have been better if Daniel hadn't had a few books packed in there to also land on him.
Bumping his shoulder against Daniel's, Jack tried to keep from sliding down the curved walls to the bottom of the curved floor as Daniel started talking. "Worst? No, the worst is that Sam and Teal'c are secretly relieved to get rid of us and gated back to tell everyone we're dead. And they'll have a nice memorial while we die of..."
"Daniel!"
"What? You asked. Or Jaffa arrived after we did and Sam and Teal'c got..."
"Daniel, if you don't put a sock in it, that head bandage is moving a lot lower."
"I was just pointing out...besides, if we think about how bad it could be, then if it turns out it's not such a disaster, it'll be a nice surprise."
"I hate surprises."
"No, you hate being surprised. You love it when someone else gets blindsided."
That was true, so Jack had to give Daniel that one. And he wondered if they weren't both a little punchy. He couldn't remember the last time he spent this much time talking to anyone, particularly Daniel. Still, what else was there to do besides wait for...well, something.
He shifted and eased his butt on the curving stone, which made the place feel like the bottom of a dry swimming pool. Or an empty fish bowl. And he was not about to follow Daniel down into his dark place of bad things. He did not believe in bracing himself so that anything else seemed better, but it struck him that this was an old habit of Daniel's.
"This what you learned from your parents dying?" Jack heard the words come out of his mouth and then he sat there braced against curved stone, his mouth hanging. Where the hell had that come from? Sure, he'd been thinking it, but to have it pop out like that? He couldn't see Daniel's expression, couldn't judge the reaction.
But when Daniel spoke, he only sounded tired. "Actually, I think I learned it before then. I mean, don't get me wrong, my parents they-well, it's just...I'm pretty sure they didn't plan on having a child. Or didn't expect it after so...well, from what I remember, they loved having me, but they really were better equipped to deal with a miniature adult than a child. You might say I grew up fast."
Jack nodded-nothing new in this to him. "Single kid, he's either the center of the universe or he learns to fit into an established relationship and careers." Or a little of both, depending on the parents, and Jack knew Daniel's parents had to have been obsessive about what they did. You didn't die for something unless it was all-consuming. "So you came in second?"
"You an only child, too?" Daniel asked.
"No. Charlie. Air Force." The words came out on their own again, and Jack wanted to bite off his tongue. You didn't speak of the dead. You buried them and left them in peace and hoped, at some point, you might find some.
Daniel just let out a long breath and Jack couldn't read what more lay under that. Then Daniel said, his voice toneless, "I see."
Jack stiffened. "See what? What?"
"Well, why you look at me-at my background-and draw similarities as to how Charlie might have turned out."
"Oh, so you're Charlie to me?"
"Not quite. I'm a different personality, obviously. But I'd have a few things in common-single child and all. You grow up independent, self-contained. My parents didn't keep guns around, which was a good thing considering I also got into everything. I was stubborn and determined I could look after myself."
"Was?" Jack asked, the word coming out with a snort that was almost a laugh. "Not seeing a past tense in there."
Daniel went right on as if Jack hadn't said anything. "That's why you're here now, even. You worry about me getting into stuff where I might get myself...well, uhm, actually, I've already done that, haven't I?"
A long silence filled the blackness.
They'd fallen into something Daniel had decided was a cistern-basically, the local underground water supply. It had looked dry and empty when they'd come to and Jack had darted his flashlight around. Overhead, the hole they'd fallen through let in faint light. Had to be only about six meters up, maybe seven, and if Daniel could stand on his shoulders, or he could stand on Daniel's, one of them might be able to get out. But Jack had fallen feet first before the rest of the floor and Daniel landed on him, and his left ankle wasn't holding his weight.
He didn't think he'd fractured anything, but he sure as hell had blown something. Without a ladder or ropes, they weren't going anywhere. They couldn't even climb the smooth sided walls and floor, carved out of the rock of the mountain and into a stone temple. Jack had already broken the tip of his knife trying to claw out a handhold.
Kicking a rock away with good foot, Jack pushed out a long, ragged breath.
The debris from the broken floor scrabbled under Daniel, echoed weirdly as Daniel moved again. And Daniel asked, voice low and tight, "Why did I just say all of that?"
"Got me. I don't know why you say most of the stuff you say. How's your head?"
"Aching."
Worry flaring, Jack flicked on the flashlight. He had it pointed away from Daniel, but Daniel still squinted and threw up a hand. The guy looked pale under the dried blood that Jack had smeared more than wiped away. But the pallor could be due to the too-bright glare.
"Jesus, Jack-the least you could do is warn me before you blind me."
"You said your head's aching."
"Yeah-it is. So is most of the rest of me."
"Daniel, you never say if you're aching."
"I do-when it's true. Just because I don't complain as much as you do, doesn't mean-"
"Yeah, sure. Save it, Daniel, for someone who hasn't seen you looking like cat spit and not saying word one about it."
"Cat spit?" Daniel asked.
With a shake of his head, Jack pulled Daniel's pack open and dug into it for the med kit.
Couple of years ago, Daniel had started packing an extra. Not long, in fact, after Sha-well, easy enough to see why Daniel might be closing a few barn doors there. Now the extra always came with. Carter had one, too, but as much action as they saw, a spare wasn't any kind of overkill.
He'd had the kit out to get Daniel's head wrapped, but he'd left the pain meds. At the time, Daniel had insisted he didn't need them, and Jack had hope of rescue soon. With head injuries, he'd rather have both of them alert until he was certain neither of them had serious damage. He was pretty certain of that now, except for the too much talking.
"Take these." He pushed a packet of Vicodin at Daniel. It'd make Daniel loopy as hell, but better that than a long night of hurting.
The packet flew back, smacked his cheek.
"You take 'em. They make me loopy as hell and I already feel drunk."
Frowning, Jack pocketed the pills and thought about it. And, yeah, he had the same back of the skull throb as the morning after one too many beers. 'Course that could be from slamming against one too many stones.
Picking up the flashlight, he swung it around the room again. Nothing but dust floated past the narrow beam. Still, he had to wonder. "Daniel, think there's something? Some kind of-I dunno-stuff in the air?"
"Beats me. That'd be Sam's area. There isn't exactly a sign with the words 'gas main' in any language, now is there?"
With a sniff and then a shrug, Daniel settled himself and slide a few inches downwards. He was sitting cross-legged with his back to the wall, and Jack didn't know how that could be comfortable. The bandage around Daniel's temple was crooked and didn't cover the deep purple bruising along the left side of his face. He looked like he'd been smacked with a floor, which was pretty much what had happened. Jack knew his own face looked better, because the aches and swelling centered on his left ankle and spread up from there to his hip and lower back and shoulders. He was just glad for no broken necks.
He stared at Daniel a minute longer, then flicked off the light. More colors danced in the darkness. Daniel shifted again; he was close enough that the warmth of him settled on Jack's left side.
"I don't smell anything. Of course, my sinuses aren't exactly reliable. But it doesn't matter if there is. Not like we can stop breathing."
"You've got a mask in your pack and we could-"
"The way my head's feeling, I'm not putting on one of those hoods. And so what if-well, we're...you know, doctors aren't allowed to repeat anything a patient says while under anesthesia. Whatever confessions come out are drug affected."
"So what-we ignore what we're saying?"
"What we're saying may be true, but it also might be twisted. Maybe we're rambling. I often do."
Closing his eyes and resting his head against the stone, Jack thought about that. At least the temperature was steady. Cool. No dampness, no chill. Not yet. Might get worse as the night went on. They hadn't fallen into a full cistern and drowned. On the other hand, there were worse things than being dead.
"What if it is true?" he asked, opening his eyes to stare at shadows. "And why do I expect you to always know these things?"
"Because I know a lot? Actually, it's probably because I'm good at crafting plausible explanations. Sam's good at that, too."
"Theories, Daniel. You always have theories. I've noticed."
"It's a habit. And it's comforting. As a kid I used to make up all the reasons for everything. I got tired of asking my parents why and having them ask me, 'well, what do you think?' That's the trouble with smart parents-they catch on to you and figure out how to make you do all the work instead."
Jack struggled with keeping the question back, but it was like trying not to hiccup. As soon as his lips parted, the sounds formed. "Did you make up a reason for why your parents had you?"
"No. I just made sure I was useful. Not that I needed to, but, well, it turned out I had an ear for language, and by seven I was about the most qualified interpreter for any of the digs because I could speak Arabic, Greek, some French, a little German, and Berber made it in there, too. Oh, and English. I was slow to pick up any writing that wasn't hieroglyphs, but I could talk to almost anyone, and I would. I was a brutal mimic. There was a smattering of Dutch in there. We didn't use it at any of the sites, but Nick visited a couple of times and was horrified my mother hadn't taught me what he said was her native tongue. Never mind she'd been born in Oregon."
"Okay, this is now weird. Daniel, you never talk about yourself."
"I know. Maybe...head injury?"
It was sure something. Daniel sounded both hopeful and resigned, like he'd been through this before. Considering how often he ended up on pain meds, he probably had. It was one reason Jack tended to low dose on anything being handed out himself. And this sure as hell wasn't a nice, safe infirmary.
Groping with one hand, Jack found Daniel's shoulder, then his neck. He pressed scraped fingertips over the carotid artery, felt the steady beat of Daniel's pulse. Skin dry and warm, but not hot. Daniel didn't bat his hand away, so he left it on Daniel's shoulder. For some reason, Jack needed the connection, and then he knew it was because they were getting into damn scary territory.
"We're going to regret this."
Daniel shifted, went from cross-legged to one knee up. Jack felt the brush of movement and knew without seeing just what was going on. And Daniel didn't move away from Jack's hand, but seemed to settle under it a little. He also didn't try to pretend he didn't know exactly what Jack was taking about.
"Will we? Maybe we can say things here in the darkness of a different world because...well, this is a temple-a holy place."
"Confession time? You might live like a priest-"
"Not voluntarily."
"-but I'm not asking you how many 'Hail Marys' I need."
"Absolutions?" Daniel said, voice slipping to light and quick and amused. "You know, the Church used to sell them. If you were thinking about committing a sin, you could buy forgiveness in advance. I wonder if it ever helped? It's too bad they don't still do that, I could use some, but then I'd have to believe and I'm not sure I'm up to that anymore."
"Daniel, following your thoughts is like watching a cat take a ball of yarn and try to knit a sweater."
"Really? Is that good? I've always thought of cats as entertaining. They're clever. There's a lot of cats in Egypt. They look as if they'd stepped from a three-thousand-year-old wall painting. I tried to tame one once. My parents had a fit over it, gave me a long lecture about rabies, but I had a habit of not listening, so I don't remember much of it other than it was hot and I was bored. I suspect I was a very annoying child."
"A trait oddly not outgrown."
"That's somewhat intentional. I wish I'd been annoying enough."
"Enough? For what?"
"The coverstone that fell-I was being annoying at the time, trying to get their attention. New York was...unsettling. And they were considering formal schooling for me, which would have meant leaving me behind next dig season, and I'd gotten to that age where I wasn't content with being in the background. So, well, I was acting out. And if I'd been better at...”
Daniel broke off, shifted again, and Jack shook his head. "Oh, crap. You and Charlie."
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure he was out to annoy you, Jack. My bet is he had your gun out before that. It's the kind of thing I'd have done. Pushed a little too far."
"Daniel, I will say this once more-we're not in was or would-have land. It's what you still do. It's why I get so damn mad at you. And it's not because of similarities to Charlie. It's because you don't recognize limits. That's not good for anyone."
Jack broke off, thought of the last set of limits Daniel had been pushing-the certainty Daniel'd had that he could get through to a hunk of metal and deadly twisted wires. Pressing his lips tighter, Jack fought the words back. They hadn't talked about it since what they'd said in the gate room and Jack wanted it left there.
Thank god, Daniel wasn't picking up on that, but he sounded ticked anyway. "Oh, come on. You've benefited from that. And it's boundaries. And I do recognize them. But limitations are artificial constructions we set around ourselves in order to create a comfort zone in which we feel safe and can operate from habit instead of conscious choice. We want assumptions to become patterns that confirm our beliefs. That's why we build temples-to turn beliefs into codified realities we can give the next generation so they don't have to think, either. All of that helps us feel better about holding onto our buffers against the world."
"So, what-faith is a set of habits?"
"Uh, yeah, pretty much. Not personal faith, but to organize anything you have to lay down rules. That means a flawed structure, given that we're only human. And it's worse when it comes from a Goa'uld."
"Daniel, do you ever listen to yourself?"
"Uh-yes. Usually. Why?"
"This..." Jack broke off, waved the hand that wasn't resting on Daniel, "...constructs thing-hell, no wonder the other book-heads booted you. These kind of ideas-and now you're just justifying why you can do whatever the hell you want with this. You do that with morality, too."
"I do not!"
Jack felt Daniel stiffen, but he kept his hand where it was. "Y'know, I'd give a lot for a pillow right about now. Or a couch."
The shoulder under his hand relaxed again. "Maybe we should start bringing something inflatable in our packs, or is that out of line with tough military standards? And are you implying that I align my interests with...what's ethically right for...well, for selfish reasons?"
Daniel sounded unsettled and his voice had gone tight and high, so Jack knew he'd hit a sore spot. He should just shut up. He'd only make it worse. He always did. But the words kept pouring, even though he didn't want to say anything. "No. You align what's right with your interests so you can end up doing what you think should be done. You make a call. And you always have good reasons. Truth is, you want us all operating in your world, Daniel. Typical only child self-centeredness-they're start off pros at that and never really learn better. You know what's right, and that's that. And, before you ask, yes, Charlie used to do that, too."
"Really?"
"Yeah. But with a lot fewer long words."
A small huff of laughter echoed in the room. "God, I think I'd have liked Charlie."
"Or you'd have hated each other. If you haven't noticed, only kids do not generally grow up great at sharing. Anything. You may share the stuff you don't care about, but god help anyone who touches the stuff you've put a claim on. We had to work with Charlie on that one, too. Of course, no chance you'd have met."
"We did. Briefly. In a way. I've always wondered, though, if that was-an idealized Charlie."
"Who? What?"
"The blue-crystal entity? You remember."
Jack did and didn't want to admit it, and did anyway. "Yeah, that was Charlie. Part of him. The best of him. The part I carry with me."
"You miss him."
The words came out soft and not a question, but Jack couldn't keep from responding. He was starting to hate that. "Hell, yeah. But you get busy. This is a job that keeps you busy. Time helps. You know all that."
"Oh, sure. Until you end up lying in a cistern for a few hours with maybe something turning every thought into words. I think this phenomena could be why there's a temple here."
"Temple of Blab? New theory?"
"Uh, yeah. But it's good one, don't you think?"
"They're all good. A few even grow up to be right."
"Right isn't everything."
Jack frowned, then squinted into the darkness. "What? Aren't you always fighting for what's right?"
"Well, sometimes. But if you'd listen to me, you'd know I'm usually just trying to get people to ask a few questions instead of reacting without checking for mistaken assumptions. Or jumping because of orders. And if you want to talk self-serving, I think we have to start there."
Jack mulled that over, then shook his head. "No, Daniel. You want to lead us all down the garden path. You want us thinking, but you want us thinking the way you do. You're a pied piper. And what the hell is a pied anyway?"
"It means patched or spotty. Either that or it's the past tense of pi-three point..."
"Thank you, Daniel. We can skip the full dictionary entry part of the evening."
"You do know that, in that fairy tale, he led a bunch of rats, and then stole children? Not a nice person. It's a metaphor for-"
"And you are?"
"What-nice? I like to think I can be. I try to be."
"Actually, you try to be polite. Hell, you can be so polite you take someone's skin off with it. Me-I don't want to be nice. Not to anyone. Nice gets you a dead kid."
"Oh, right. And your marriage? You think being nice ended that?"
"Okay-your point on that one."
"Point? This is a game now? What's with this sports mentality within the military anyway? Life as one big war game? And I'm not sure you are telling the truth. You sound more like you're telling a skewed personal version."
"Sure, Daniel. Keep talking. That non-sports geek thing-you are so busted on that one. You're as competitive as Carter, and you're only a klutz when you're totally not paying attention. I've seen you in action. And I've seen how you watch hockey."
"Well-"
Jack waited. Something in here was doing this to them. He was ready to make book on that. So Daniel wouldn't be able to clam up. Sure enough, Daniel shifted, but couldn't hold back an answer. "It took me a few years to get into glasses. Which meant my hand-eye coordination was...well, poor depth perception leaves out most sports. By then, I'd pretty much decided that wasn't an area where I excelled anyway, but I'd also had early years playing with third-world kids. Survival for them is a matter of competing-they don't exactly take it easy on you. And, well, after I adjusted to my foster home, I found I liked track. Physical exhaustion can be a great place sometimes."
"How'd you do at meets?"
"Terrible. If we had to travel too far, my allergies killed me. Then they bumped me in grades and that killed competing in anything. Except for chess club."
"Debate team?"
"Good at arguments, not so good at the whole team thing."
"Let me guess-you were annoying."
"Making up for what I hadn't been able to do earlier. So, yes, very annoying. Tact is not a natural gift-as you know."
Jack ignored the barb, let it bounce off his skin, and asked, since he couldn't not, "Drove your foster parents nuts?"
"Not really. They were European, an older couple with beautiful manners. I picked up more languages from them. And they had this quiet way of looking at me like they knew I couldn't help it when I stepped out of line and that made me feel horrible-god, they'd lost relatives to Auschwitz. So how was I...mostly it was with teachers, anyway, and the occasional case worker or psychologist that...well, like I said, first couple of years were an adjustment. This whole country was. So was the idea of rules. I'd never had so much as a bedtime."
"What?"
"Well, what sense would it make? My parents had things to occupy them, and they figured I was smart enough to sleep when I was tired, eat when hungry. And I was. Still am. Speaking of that, do we have any food?"
Since Daniel didn't seem with it enough to dig into his own pack, Jack pulled it open again and found an MRE. He ripped into it, pulled out one of the smaller packets and squished it. "Mac and cheese, I think?"
"Useful as a substitute for a plaster casting but nothing I'd want."
"Fine. Eat the cookies." He found the cookie packet by touch, pushed it into Daniel's hands, heard the package crackle as Daniel struggled to open it. "Do you think the Jaffa have a better form of portable meals? I know there's freeze-dried camping food that's better."
"Be grateful. Millions were spent to develop this. Besides, if Teal'c had something better, don't you think he'd share?"
"No. Teal'c likes to impress us with the whole stoic thing. He wants us thinking Jaffa can live on scavenged pine needles and dirt. He also likes to make us ask him about stuff-all this time and you haven't noticed that? And aren't you glad you aren't here with him, listening to stories of life with Apophis?"
Part 2